


Men in Black Suits

by stetsonblack



Category: Men in Black (Movies), Suits (TV)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:50:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stetsonblack/pseuds/stetsonblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike Ross hadn't really expected to be interviewed by Harvey Specter, nor for the cop chasing him to turn into a tentacled alien. Clearly, these aren't law firm interviews. And why does Harvey keep flashing that light in his eyes? Written for a prompt on the suitsmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt by anon: MIB!AU.
> 
> Come on, guys. I know you want it too.
> 
> Harvey is the organization's best agent who just wants to work alone because if he has to suffer another idiot as partner again, he's going destroy the planet himself and Mike the ex-cop who's assigned as Harvey's new partner.
> 
> I'd like to read slash. H/M is my favourite pairing, but I can take GEN without much pain.
> 
> BONUS: Donna as some alien who was saved by Harvey and is staying because she has to pay her debt to him and because the people on the organization amuses her, as they seems perpetually scared of her.

Mike ran through the stairwell at full speed, not caring about anything except the cop pursuing him.

In his hand was Trevor's briefcase, which contained vacuum-packed bags of weed. Enough to put him in jail and destroy his grandmother's chances of staying in a private health care facility. Mike was determined to never let that happen; that's why he'd taken this job in the first place, after all.

He was going to kill Trevor if he ever made it out of here.

Bursting through the second floor stair access door he brought up the hotel's floor plan in his mind, hoping it would provide him with an escape route.

He recalled a sign in the lobby of the hotel that advertised law interviews for somewhere in the hotel. The sign had read: **PEARSON HARDMAN/HARVARD LAW INTERVIEWS/ROOM 2005.** Mike had always dreamed of being a lawyer until Trevor had screwed him over, which was starting to be a recurring theme. He headed for the interview location thinking maybe it was a sign of his fortune changing. He could hardly imagine it getting any worse at this point.

Mike rushed into the room populated by a large number of goofy, suit-wearing dweebs with briefcases identical to his own—only he suspected that none of theirs were filled with illegal drugs. He turned to find a very attractive and yet very intimidating redhead sitting at a desk.

"Rick Sorkin?" she asked him rudely. Mike looked around to make sure she was addressing him. He nervously tried to control his breathing and disguise the fact that he'd just run down a stairwell from undercover police officers. "Excuse me, Mr. Sorkin, you are _five_ minutes late. Is there a reason why I should let you in?"

Mike put up a placating hand, hoping he could stall enough to slip his tail. "L-look, I'm just trying to ditch the cops, okay? I don't really care if you let me in or not," he panted nervously, scanning for an exit.

He certainly didn't expect the redhead's demeanor to instantly change from hostile to helpful. "Mr. Specter will be right with you," she said kindly.

"…What?"

"Can I get you anything? A coffee or a bottle of water?"

Mike just stared at her confusedly until an extremely well-dressed, classy man in a three-piece suit came out of the room to his right and guided Mike inside.

Mike followed the suit dazedly, shaking the offered hand. "Hi, uh…Rick Sorkin," he managed.

"Harvey Specter. Nice to meet you. Why don't you have a seat here," the man said with a charming smile as he indicated the fancy oak desk just a few feet from them. Just as Harvey turned to walk away, Trevor's cursed briefcase chose that precise moment to betray Mike. It popped open, spilling its entire contents all over the floor.

Harvey looked down and back at Mike, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Whoa! What's this?" he asked too cheerfully.

Mike opened his mouth to respond, wondering how he was going to explain this, sure he was going to jail for a long time, when a tremendous crash sounded from the main room.

Harvey turned to it, groaned slightly, and proceeded to rush out of the room. Mike followed quickly and entered a scene from an old sci-fi film, complete with the terrible alien design and poor special effects. Except that it appeared, against all odds, to be real.

There was some sort of strange alien-monster in the middle of the room, complete with flailing tentacles and gaping maw. Its head appeared to be made entirely of its mouth, which held ten rows total of gleaming, pointed teeth that were dripping with gooey saliva. Atop its head were six protruding eyestalks that held bloodshot orbs the size of baseballs.

The room was quickly turning into a disaster zone. All the interviewees were running for their lives, bolting for the room's only exit. Unfortunately for Mike, he was on the entirely wrong side of the room.

"What the…" he trailed off as he saw that the alien was wearing what appeared to be a bellhop's uniform. It must have been the fake one that had been chasing him. His theory was soon confirmed as it caught sight of Mike and proceeded to aim a large slimy tentacle at him.

Mike dodged, pressing himself back against the wall as he noticed two people remaining in the room. One was the redhead, who was wielding some sort of large, silvery ray gun the size of a bazooka. She yelled at him to get back. The other occupant was Harvey Specter, who looked entirely unruffled at the sight of the monster, and was aiming some elegant-looking device at it. It looked like a garage door clicker except that it emitted the most shrill, ear-piercing screeching that Mike had ever heard in his life. Harvey and the redhead looked unfazed by the sound, but Mike and the monster weren't so lucky.

Mike threw his hands up as he cringed against the wall, vainly attempting to block the sound with his hands as earplugs. The creature employed a different method. It, too, covered its ears; but the thing had more arms than everyone in the room combined, allowing it to violently swing its remaining tentacles frantically in the hopes of halting the noise.

It struck Harvey quickly in the gut, causing the man to lose the device, which went flying to land not two feet from Mike's position on the wall. The redhead dodged a tentacle to the head only to have another one sweep her legs from under her. The ray gun let out a blast that blew drywall from the ceiling directly above Mike's head. He leaped out of the way as it came crashing down.

As the two victims struggled to recover, the monster turned its attention to them, whacking them with its massive tentacles. Mike used the leap he'd taken to avoid the falling debris, and the brief pause in tentacle-dodging exercises to lunge for the clicker device.

He reasoned that it hurt the creature, and while it hurt Mike too, he was willing to endure the pain it would cause if it incapacitated the thing. He jammed the single, shiny button down and held on to the clicker for dear life.

The alien immediately returned its attention to Mike, aiming all of its tentacles except the two it was using as earplugs, at him. A few managed to wrap around his torso and his legs and were now slamming him against any flat surface in the hopes of getting him to release the device.

But there was no way in Hell Mike was letting go.

Just as his ribs felt like they were about to crack completely, and his brain felt like it was going to explode from the screeching and the impact of hitting numerous hard surfaces, the monster froze.

Mike opened his eyes against his pain-clouded judgment, and looked at the thing just in time to see its head explode. Guts and brain matter splattered everywhere, drenching Mike in the gross stuff as he fell to the floor with a dull _thunk_!

He lay there for a good minute, eyes open to slits, ribs protesting at every expansion and decompression of his lungs. His head really hurt, and he was fairly certain that it was soon going to follow the monster's example and explode when a gentle hand pried the device from Mike's grasp, silencing the piercing noise.

Mike looked up to see none other than Harvey Specter, looking entirely immaculate and completely untouched by alien goo.

Harvey said something to Mike, but all that Mike's sensory input registered was that the man's lips had moved. No sound reached him. In a moment of adrenaline-fueled panic, he reached up to examine his ears to find that they were still intact, despite the intense ringing sound that was starting to rip through his skull. Mike realized belatedly that he could now hear somewhat, and that Harvey and the redhead were discussing something next to him.

"This is why I didn't want to do this," Harvey complained. "Donna, would you—"

"On it," the redhead—Donna?—said.

Harvey turned back to Mike as the woman left the room. He crouched next to Mike's unmoving form, not a hint of concern on his face, and asked, "Still in there, kid?"

Mike nodded angrily, wincing as he tried to move. He flinched as his ribs gave a particularly sharp stab at his lungs, and the room began to spin.

When he opened his eyes—vaguely wondering when he'd closed them—Harvey was playing with something that looked like the ear destroying device. Mike shimmied away from it as much as his injuries would allow.

Harvey gave him an amused smirk. "Would you relax? It's just a scanner."

Mike stilled as he realized that whether or not it actually _was_ a "scanner", it most definitely wasn't the clicker device. He allowed himself to relax.

"You've got some minor injuries. Nothing we can't fix in a pinch. Well, except the concussion, of course. Now, since I've been reassured that you are in fact still capable of human speech, do you want to explain why you came to a law interview carrying a briefcase full of pot?"


	2. Chapter 2

Mike had finished the story of his life up to his deal gone wrong in the hotel and was now idly wondering if this wasn't all some sort of drug-induced hallucination. Maybe he was in a coma somewhere, dying of brain trauma, and this was his mind's subconscious trying to show him something.

Mike dazedly noticed that Harvey was talking to him. "Well, unfortunately, I'm not actually a lawyer, and while personally, I would give you a chance just for the hell of it, I couldn't actually hire you anyway. Forget Harvard Law, you haven't even graduated from _any_ law school."

"What if I told you I consumed knowledge like no one you've ever met _and_ I've actually passed the Bar." Mike wasn't quite sure why he was arguing. He was fairly certain now that the interviews hadn't actually been for a law firm, considering what he'd seen of Harvey Specter and his assistant extraordinaire. Plus, he was fairly certain the interviews were canceled on account of the big pile of alien remains that plastered the walls. But he blamed his actions entirely on his concussion.

Harvey's eyes seemed to sparkle a bit, and he rose to the bait eagerly. "I'd say you're full of crap."

"I can prove it," Mike said, adjusting his position on the floor in anticipation of proving himself.

But once more, they were interrupted, this time by Donna's return. Strangely, she seemed to be wearing a pair of stylish but very dark sunglasses. "All done. We should finish up. JP wants us back at base so she can yell at you for sabotaging your interviews. Also, clean-up needs to get in here, pronto."

Harvey sighed at her and nodded. He looked like a kid whose favorite new toy had just been taken away. "Yeah, yeah." He turned to Mike, donning a pair of similarly darkened sunglasses that were definitely above Mike's pay grade, and holding out a thin cylinder with a flash bulb on one end. "Sorry, kid. I'll do you a favor and deal with your little cop problem. Best of luck."

And then there was whiteness.

Mike painfully blinked away dancing spots from his vision as it spiked his headache up a notch. He took in a deep, sharp breath and watched as Harvey and Donna began to make their way out of the room.

He couldn't believe it! They were just going to leave him there with the alien carcass! Forget the cops finding the drugs! He was in a room with alien monster insides all over his outsides!

Mike stood angrily, clutching the wall for support. "You're really going to just leave me here with this…what the Hell is that thing, anyway!"

Harvey and Donna stopped the moment they'd heard Mike's voice. Now they simultaneously turned slowly to face him, bewildered looks on their faces.

"Excuse me?" Harvey asked, voice quiet and dangerous.

"Maybe it's broken again?" Donna suggested ponderously. "You know how L likes to mess with you."

Harvey shook his head, and hastily shoved the blinding cylinder in Mike's face again. It went off before Mike could close his eyes, and he threw his head back in agony. It hit the wall with a muffled and painful thud.

Mike desperately attempted to keep the room from spinning and the floor from melting as he blinked the spots away again. Harvey and Donna were silent, and he could tell that they hadn't moved from their positions.

"Was that really necessary?" Mike grumbled. "You know flash bombs only work if you run away _before_ your victim can recover?"

"That's not possible," Harvey growled.

Donna cocked her head to the side as she examined Mike. "Interesting," she mused. "Are you certain he's human?"

Mike was sure, in hindsight, that had he not had a concussion, he would have interjected with a disbelieving question right then. But unfortunately, he was still attempting to recover from the second flash which was threatening to pull him into unconsciousness.

"We're running short on time, Harvey," Mike heard Donna say, and he wondered, for the second time in the last few minutes, when he had closed his eyes.

"Fine. We'll just have to take him with us, then."

"You're the boss."

Mike didn't really want to go anywhere with these two strange strangers. He wanted to go home, lie in bed for a week, and then murder Trevor. He took a cautious but determined step forward to assert that there was no way he was going anywhere with these two, when his legs gave out under him and everything went black.

He was going to kill Trevor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I have no idea where all of this came from. Really, the prompt was just too funny to not have it be filled. So here is the result of my addled abby-normal brain.


	3. Chapter 3

When Mike woke up it was to find that he was no longer in the hotel.

He was in what appeared to be a white room, where he was lying on a metal table, surrounded only by emptiness.

He leaped up and staggered off the table, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His head felt fuzzy, like he'd been drinking, and the room spun around him. Only, it was hard to tell if the room was spinning or it was just him, since the lack of any furnishings made finding a reference point virtually impossible.

He stumbled against the walls, throwing his shoulder against it in the hopes of steadying himself.

After a minute of rest, he finally felt better, more sure of his feet. The room had also stabilized, so he took a look around to find that there was no door.

No door. No way out. He was trapped. He had to get out.

He took deep, calm breaths in an attempt to relax. Hyperventilating and falling into hysterical panic wouldn't help him escape any faster.

So once he felt collected he looked around again, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

That's when he noticed the lines on the wall to his left. They were very faint and he almost thought he'd imagined them, but running his fingers over them confirmed their existence. There was a small groove in the wall that outlined the shape of a doorway. Now if only he could figure out how to open it.

He was about ready to just kick the damned thing after trying everything he could think of, when it slid into the wall suddenly.

He dodged to the side, back against the wall to attack whoever (or whatever, he thought, remembering the tentacle monster from before) was about to enter.

Mike leaned back to swing his arm into the person who stepped through the threshold, but managed to stop himself as he saw a beautiful woman walk through instead of the monster. She turned to look impatiently at him and he stared dumbly back.

"Mike Ross?" she asked, voice full of boredom and annoyance. He got the feeling that she didn't want to be there any more than he did.

"Uhh…" he said, hoping she'd explain where he was.

"I'll be giving you your orientation," she said, like he was supposed to know what that meant. She smiled a fake smile expectantly at him, holding her hand out to shake.

Dazed, he gripped it lightly, and let out, "You're pretty," because it was all he could think to say. He hadn't actually realized he'd said it out loud until she gave him a tiny glare.

"Good. You've hit on me. We can get it out of the way that I'm _not_ interested."

Mike felt immensely lost, and managed to get out, "No, I'm sorry, I wasn't hitting on you. I was—" before he was interrupted.

"Trust me. I've given dozens of these, and without fail, whatever hotshot it is thinks that because I'm just the relationship manager, that I will somehow be blown away by his dazzling rank. Let me assure you, I won't."

"I was," he ceded, and she gave a little sound of agreement. "I _was_ hitting on you."

"You were," she said. An amused twinkle in her eye had now replaced the glare, and she shoved a notepad and pen into his hands. "Take notes, I'm not going to repeat myself."

As she walked away, Mike stood there, admiring this strange woman who'd suddenly made him feel, if not safe and welcome, then at least normal. "I love you," he whispered softly, hoping he'd get to see that amused twinkle again soon. Right after he figured out where the hell he was, of course.

He followed her out of the room. They were in a long white corridor, and she was saying something about how this was the corridor to the observation rooms, the conference rooms, etc. He looked for windows, or exit signs, but saw nothing; only white hallways and the occasional passerby wearing the exact same style of suit—black with matching black tie and matching black shoes.

He caught up to his guide and gave her a desperate look. She took pity on him and slowed her pace.

"Do you know Harvey Specter, by any chance?" Mike asked. He remembered the man's name, of course, since the man had been the last thing he'd seen before waking up in this place.

"I do. He's one of our best agents. Everyone says he's the best in the business, but I have very little contact with him, so I don't know," she trailed off.

Now Mike knew that this place must be bad, if Harvey Specter, destroyer of tentacled monsters and piercer of eardrums was involved. If only he knew where _here_ was. He looked at his guide and got the feeling that she'd warmed up to him slightly. Maybe he could risk asking her?

"Can I ask you something?" Mike said nervously.

She waited for him to continue.

"Where am I?"

She gave him a confused look, as though she was trying to determine if he was for real. "Let's continue with your tour," she said, and took off down the corridor at an increased pace.

Mike jogged to catch up with her. When he did, he found her waiting at a door just like the one to his room, but when this one slid open it revealed a large room with all sorts of crazy things in it.

Against one wall was a line of what looked like metal detectors with strange-looking creatures going through with about as much enthusiasm as airplane passengers. In the center of the room were two creatures that sat side by side, constantly attending to large monitors with all sorts of cryptic symbols on them. There was a separate wing in the far back that looked like it was filled with gadgets and gizmos, and directly above them was what looked like a fancy, all glass war room.

She tutted at him and he followed along, hoping he didn't get lost amongst the impossible crowd. Maybe this was some sort of science fiction convention, or an elaborate costume party? Somehow he didn't think so.

They headed towards the back wing, where his guide showed him all sorts of things that he wasn't ever supposed to touch, and they passed by someone named 'L's office—they'd actually made a wide arc around it, Mike noticed, but he didn't comment on it; his guide seemed pretty pissed at him already.

Next was the main room, where she explained the job of the two aliens at the monitors, the airline security checkpoint, and the various creatures standing there. Apparently, Mike was in some sort of checkpoint, where aliens from all over the universe (though, mostly the Milky Way Galaxy, apparently) were being stopped, forced through passport control and customs, and given a disguise in order to blend in with the humans. Mike took all this information in and decided not to comment at the moment. He was too busy trying to process the fact that there were aliens in front of him.

He realized she was yelling at him again, pointing to what looked to be a long few rows of desks, filled with people in those identical black suits again, furiously scribbling away, or fiddling with one of the various 'forbidden' objects she'd shown him back in the Tech Department.

She led him over to one of the empty desks and stopped. "And finally, this is where you'll live."

Mike stared down at the desk, trying to decide if this was real, or if his desk was about to reveal itself as an alien in disguise.

His guide glared at him. "I gave you that for a reason," she said, pointing to the unused notepad Mike had been carrying. "You haven't taken one note."

"That's because—" he began to defend.

"—because you were too busy ogling me to listen to a word I've said?"

Mike was now very annoyed. He had no idea where he was or why he was here at all, and now this crazy but beautiful woman was accusing him of having not paid attention to her? He'd show her!

He quickly gave her a summary of her tour, including pointing out her fear of that 'L' character, and finishing up by adding that just because she was only a 'relationship manager' (whatever that was), he had no right to command her services. "It's also pretty clear you think you're too smart to be just a relationship manager," he added, feeling bold.

She gaped at him, but the smile was obvious in her eyes. "You know what nobody likes? Nobody likes a showoff."

"You used the word ogling!" Mike defended as she stalked away. Then realized that he needed her, that he had no clue what the hell he was doing here. "Wait! Let me see Harvey!" he shouted after her. Maybe that suit could fix this. It was all his fault anyway.

Mike sighed as he realized he was on his own, and sat down at the empty desk. He had absolutely no idea what he should be doing, nor why he'd been given a desk at all.

After what felt like hours, but was actually only a few minutes, he stood up, completely ignored by those around him, and marched off to explore. If Harvey wouldn't offer him an explanation, then he'd go find the damned not-lawyer and force one out of him.

He walked over to the technology department and was promptly hit in the head with something very tiny.

When he came to, he was lying on the floor staring up at a dark skinned man with spiky hair. He wore the same black suit that seemed to be the standard around here, but without the jacket. And Mike noticed his dress shirt had short sleeves, with a nice red tie to break the monochrome color scheme.

"Oh good. You're still alive," the man said disappointingly.

Mike thought that was rather rude, considering what his day had been like so far. "Don't sound so happy," he grumbled.

"It's supposed to kill you," the man argued.

"Yeah, I think I'll just stay away from this area from now on," Mike said, picking himself up off the floor and backing away amidst the man's annoyed protests.

Mike made a mental note to leave that department alone. Maybe he'd go check out the aliens instead. They looked interesting enough, just so long as none of them had tentacles and were wearing bellhop uniforms.

He stood watching the queue of creatures move along at a crawling pace for a little while, before realizing that it was exactly as boring as waiting for airport security. He decided that despite the creatures before him, he was bored, and tired, and he wanted to go home. He needed to find Harvey.

So Mike stalked around the building until he found what looked like an impressive corner office, complete with color in it and everything. It was like stepping into a different reality. There was colored carpet, colored furniture, an actual view of the city from actual windows, and a whole wall of records, each painted in a myriad of colors. Mike recognized from the view that they were several stories up, in amongst Manhattan's landscape of skyscrapers.

The name on the door read simply, 'H'. Only Harvey Specter would be so egotistical to assume that one letter was enough to represent his entirety. What an arrogant—

"Mike," Harvey said, noticing Mike staring out his windows. They were alone in the office, and Mike studied the man before him, noticing that he also wasn't wearing the same boring suit that seemed to be so popular around here.

"I'm sorry, do we know each other?" Mike asked angrily. He certainly didn't want to know Harvey.

Harvey winced. "Sorry, Mike, I'm going to have to let you go. Donna will show you out and wipe your memory."

Mike frowned. He'd been confused and a little upset before, mostly because he didn't know what was going on, just that it must be Harvey Specter's fault. But wiping his memory? He couldn't imagine not being able to remember. That's what Harvey had been trying to do with that obnoxious light back in the hotel! Mike took a step backwards, body tensing.

Harvey looked uncomfortable. "I just got reamed for lying about an alien's credentials to my boss. If JP finds out I hired you instead of one of the actually qualified interviewees, and the real reason I had to have the clean up crew at the Chilton Hotel, she'll put me all the way back in the mail room of an _actual_ law firm."

Mike glared at this man. What did he mean 'hire' him? He'd been hired? For what exactly? And now Harvey was going to erase his memory? Well, it hadn't worked the last two times. That fact alone was enough fuel for Mike to defend his position.

"Wait, so you got in trouble for breaking the rules, which you did again by hiring me, and now you're firing me so she won't maybe find out you broke the rules? But if you fire me, I can just tell her the whole story and then she'll definitely know you broke the rules."

Harvey stared at him in wonder. "Are you blackmailing me?"

Mike stared dazedly at Harvey Specter, wondering at the audacity of this man. "You just put your interests before mine, now I'm putting mine back up with yours…"

Harvey gazed at him a few more seconds before saying, "You're rehired," and whisking his way out of his office, leaving Mike standing there even more confused than he had been before.

He thought he'd just gotten a job, but he had no idea what it was for, how he'd gotten it, nor why he'd fought to keep it. And he wondered why Harvey had wanted him for it in the first place.

So he sat in one of the chairs in Harvey's office, waiting for the man to return with an explanation.


	4. Chapter 4

Mike startled from his nap as something was thrown over his head. He scrambled to remove the cloth and scan his surroundings for signs of his attacker, only to find an amused Harvey Specter standing smugly before him.

“We’ll get you some custom ones later. I can’t have my partner looking like he works for the FBI,” Harvey said and went around to sit at his desk.

Mike balled up the cloth, which he realized was one of the black suits that everyone seemed to wear around here. It was nicer than any suit Mike had ever worn and he wondered what Harvey meant when he said they’d get him better ones.

Mike rose angrily to his feet. “Will you please explain what the hell is going on?”

Harvey stood slowly and glared at Mike. “Excuse me?”

Mike glared right back. “I nearly just got killed by an alien and then I get blinded twice in succession only to find that I’m in some weird room on a metal table where I nearly get killed by an unidentified flying object, find out that aliens exist, and that I’m now supposed to be working here!”

Harvey didn’t answer, just waited for Mike to finish. “You were the one who just argued for this job,” he said calmly.

“I didn’t—what?”

“As I recall, I was going to send you on your way, when you told me in so many words that letting you go wasn’t an option. So don’t give me that crap about how you want out.”

Mike blinked for a few minutes, trying to process Harvey’s words. He <i> _had </i>_ argued to keep this job, hadn’t he?

“I assume someone gave you a tour already?” Harvey asked.

Mike nodded. “Yeah, Rachel, the ‘relationship manager’ or whatever. What does that even mean, anyway?”

Harvey gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “She’s in charge of keeping everyone happy enough to get work done. She’s also an expert on various alien species, so we use her for research purposes.” Mike chose to ignore the hint Harvey was giving him that she was off limits; Rachel was hot.

Mike nodded. “Okay, then who’s that ‘L’ guy?”

Harvey frowned. “L is in charge of the technology department. He also sometimes oversees paperwork, so if you have to do any, which you will, then he’s in charge. But do <i> _not </i>_ listen to him. I’m your boss, not L.”

Mike sensed there was some history there and decided to leave it alone for the time being. He still had too many questions. “Okay, Donna then,” he asked.

Harvey shrugged. “What about her?”

“Well, a minute ago, you said I was your new partner, but I thought she was your partner back at the hotel.”

“Donna is…my assistant. She helps out on occasion and she insists on accompanying me for field exercises, despite my preference to fly solo. She knows everything that goes on here, so don’t piss her off,” Harvey said in warning.

Mike filed that information away for safe keeping. She had seemed scary enough back at the hotel with that giant ray gun bazooka thing; and she had been using it in heels.

“Anything else?” Harvey questioned, sounding bored.

“Um, yeah. Where are we?”

Harvey gave him a skeptical look.

“Seriously. It wasn’t in the orientation.”

Harvey shook his head in exasperation and began something Mike immediately recognized as a quote. “We are the best kept secret in the universe. We work for a highly funded yet unofficial government agency. Our mission is to monitor extra-terrestrial activity on Earth. We are the best, last, and only line of defense. And so on.”

Mike had to admit, he was still confused. Apparently Harvey could tell, because he scowled at Mike and said, “Figure it out in your spare time. Not that you’ll have any. We have a case to do in an hour. Just enough time to get you outfitted.” Harvey stood from his seat at his desk and strode out of his office. Mike hastened to follow.

“Where are we going?”

“You talk way too much,” Harvey said and stopped before a screen and a large metal sphere.

“Oh no,” Mike said suddenly, recognizing the device. “I’ve seen enough science fiction stories to know that I won’t like that. What does it do? Erase my fingerprints? You do realize that erasing someone’s fingerprints creates a new pattern that can be just as recognizable as the original pattern, right? Statistically speaking—”

Harvey grabbed Mike’s wrists and placed Mike’s hands on the sphere. His rant of the statistical impracticalities of the process morphing into a shout as the device seared off the layers of skin on the pads of his fingers.

Harvey fiddled with computer screen and deleted Mike’s name from digital existence. They’d send someone to recover the paper copies later.

“This way,” Harvey said and started to march over towards the area Mike had decided never to return to. He spotted the spiky-haired man in the corner and jogged to walk beside Harvey, using the man as a moving shield.

Harvey stopped and raised a perfect eyebrow at Mike. “What are you doing?”

“Uh,” Mike said eloquently. He stood still, careful not to step into view of the lethal man in the corner. Harvey squinted suspiciously at Mike but continued walking.

They entered what looked like a locker room, and Harvey directed Mike over to one that had the letter ‘M’ on it.

“This is your new name and your locker. Only you can open it, blah blah, take care not to lose the assigned uniform, etc. etc.” Harvey shook his head as he mentioned the suit, complete with finger pointing in the direction of the room’s nearest trash receptacle. Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his new boss.

He scanned the lockers for any sign of an ‘H’, and found a dinky little locker on the end of the row.

“So am I supposed to call you H? Is Harvey Specter just like, a code for something?”

Harvey blinked at him. “Do we need to have a talk about interrupting me?”

Mike coughed nervously and kept his mouth shut.

“No, I don’t go by H. That code is already taken by another agent.”

Mike glanced back at the locker and noticed on closer inspection that it was covered in a thick layer of dust. It looked like no one had so much as touched it in years.

“We expect he’ll check in someday,” Harvey said cryptically.

“Should I be worried?” Mike wondered aloud.

Harvey started to walk out but closed the door on Mike as he made to follow. “Get changed. We’re going to be late.”


End file.
